


Of Inky Memories, Broken Hearts, and Shambling Wrecks

by ricketyhopeful



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Angst, First two chapters are short it gets longer afterwards, I may add more characters I dunno yet, I shall update tags as the work progresses don't worry, The break just felt natural, Will's Warmweed addiction is frequently mentioned, it's described in a similar manner to how it is in the books, one last tag I promise: thankyou beta reader of wonderfulness, so if that upsets you/you don't feel comfortable reading it then please ignore this work, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-11 10:20:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7044460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricketyhopeful/pseuds/ricketyhopeful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Afraid of the pressing winter and what he knows it will wreak on the passes to Skandia Halt, in desperation, moves his plans forward.  That he rushes through it doesn't make the heartbreak easier. </p><p>After seeing the once-proud apprentice ranger wither away into a shambling wreck Erak takes a leap of faith, trusting the young girl to see the pair of them out. He can only hope that the warmweed addiction breaks without taking the boy's mind with it. </p><p>(An AU based on a Tumblr post of what if, when Halt arrived, Will was still addicted to warmweed.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Evelyn- Cassandra – whatever her name was supposed to be these days – trudged onward, feet slipping against the occasional branch lodged deep in the snow. Idly she mused about her name. That Evelyn was considered more hers than its original owner’s disturbed her, in all honesty, but there was no escaping that now. And, outside of Hallasholm, what difference did it truly make? There were more important things than the technicalities around her name.

Such as her friend. ~~If there was anything left of him.~~

Everything seemed to lead back to that. Her idle musings always centred back upon Will. Will who had nearly given his life for her before, who indeed would have in different circumstances. Will who kept her secret. Who comforted her when all else failed.

And who had been sent to the yards to be forgotten, his mind addicted to the drug which had destroyed it.

His grace was all gone now, there was no surety in his stance. There was no trace of the skilled Ranger that had first greeted her, standing by the fire with compassion and warmth in his eyes. Sighing Evelyn marched on, counting her steps for lack of anything better to do. “Come on Will. Not too much further!” She ignores the fact that the encouraging words flung over her shoulder are made more for herself and the pony than Will.

Just as well, really, as she receives no response. Brown eyes stare ever onward, utterly uncomprehending.

…

The two strangers trudged into the in, attracting little attention save for a few glares at the sudden sweep of cold air.  The shorter, older, man subtly nods to his young companion to claim a table before going up to the innkeeper, requesting two beds for a night’s rest.

Before long the man – assumed to be some sort of assistant to the youth – has returned, joining his companion. The table was well-worn and hard, with shadows lingering on and around it, obscuring the travellers from notice. Relaxing the two shook of the rain and cold before beginning to actually discuss matters.

“How much more rain must we put up with Halt?”

Though perhaps not very important matters.

“The day I can predict the future, Horace, I will be sure to let you know.” The response is accompanied with a sardonically raised eyebrow before being brushed aside in favour of a more relevant topic “Though it’s getting colder. Have you noticed? The rain is more like sleet some days.” Leaning back in his chair Halt grimaced. “Let’s hope it’s just a cold spell. I have no wish to be caught in Skandia with early snows. Or have the pass close before we even get to it.”

…

To the companions’ relief it did indeed seem to be a cold spell, albeit a miserable and persistent one.

However, by the time that the pass was reached winter had certainly begun, with a reasonable layer of snow already underfoot and a frigid wind in the air, whipping through the horses’ manes. But still definitely open. If one watched very carefully the odd horned helmet could even be seen.

“Are you sure of this Halt?”

“Of course.”

“I still don’t like the idea of tampering with the mail” was the muttered reply before the two set off, satchel with a forged letter close at hand.

The grizzled Ranger simply chuckled.


	2. Chapter 2

Evelyn wasn’t sure what to do, in all honestly. The snow was mounting up by the day. There were stores of food which would last them though the winter, or at least she hoped they would. In the meantime she tended for the small pony and Will and cooked. But there was precious little else to occupy the time. In desperation she turned to exercise, reminded with a wry smile of Will during their period of time at Skorghill.

It still got very dull very quickly.

So, out of both boredom and the vague idea that it might be useful in the near future – or however near spring should be classified as- she had commenced work on a sling. The princess had noticed, of course, the small hunting bow in the corner but after some effort and practice found herself no more competent with it. The only change was that now she was missing an arrow in the ever building snow drifts, lost until the thaws. Out of necessity, her focus shifted. At least a sling she would know how to use, thanks to her rather un-lady-like childhood pastimes.

Her mouth quirked up at the corner as she remembered. Her cousins had been a rowdy lot, mostly boys, and all of them had spent many hours scampering through the forests around the castle playing with slings and rocks. If she remembered correctly she had been one of the best, before growth and expectations had put an end to most things so rambunctious.

Grinning at the memories Evelyn set to work again, the small piece of salvaged leather clasped in her hands.

…

They had climbed far into the mountains now, with the depth of the snow and ever-changing variable. In the valleys it was still reasonably sparse, but higher up hills and drifts of deep powder had already begun to appear. Halt hissed in displeasure as yet another clump of snow plopped down from a branch. Most simply slipped off the cowl of his cloak, though some inevitably stuck and then fell onto his nose a moment later.

The young knight at his side grinned. “You’re like a cat.”

The grizzled man turned his head, already prickly temper flaring. “A cat?”

Horace nodded, clearly liking the simile. “A very grumpy old tom. Like the one that used to live around the ward.”

Somewhat hoping that refusal would end the topic Halt shook his head in denial before swiftly ducking under a branch. “No. I don’t.”

No such luck. “Oh. Too bad, he was very nice when you got to know him. Used to love milk. You could bribe him to come to you if you had a bowl.”

“I am not some old feline who is desperate for milk, Horace.”

“Well no but –“

The conversation was suddenly cut short by the sight of Hallasholm, spreading beneath them. Both horses halted and their riders made no move to push them onwards.

All teasing was forgotten, the pair staring out over the view. From their view, high up on one of the old hunting trails, among small shrouds of light snow, the clump of buildings seemed massive, with streets roughly paved and people bustling.

The Ranger gathered his wits again, though his eyes were still locked on the city. There was little snow down there, perhaps only five centimetres or so; enough to herald the coming harsh winter. But what truly held the man’s gaze was a wolfship, large and with sails furled. A wolfship that, many months ago, he had shot at, with Abelard running underneath him into the sea and a promise screaming into the wind.

“They landed here. We’re at least staring in the right place.”


	3. Chapter 3

Horace leant back in the saddle, letting Kicker have his head as they went down a particularly steep hill. “Are you sure this is a good idea Halt?”

The Ranger in front of him sighed, a frigid cloud escaping from his lips as he did so. “No. I’m not. But I can’t think of a better option. If you’re concerned I suggest that you simply pray that nobody discovers us..” A small smirk formed on his lips as he added “Happy now?”

“No.”

…..

Evenlyn swore under her breath, running out into the snow heedless of the ever-growing drifts’ cold biting through her shabby trousers. She had hoped that she would be able to ration the warmweed out more, but Will had suddenly dissolved into a shaking sobbing mess after holding out his hand for the second time without receiving anything.

Grabbing a small amount she bolted back, the drug in hand. Slamming the door shut the girl raced over to her friend and gave him the leaves. His hand was shaking as he reached out, looking half clawed, simultaneously terrifying and heart-breaking. The second he had the drug Will scrambled into a corner, trying to shield himself from her before plopping it into his mouth and forgetting the world.

She could tell when the drug hit his system. The tension dissipated from his shoulders, and the wretched whimpering slowly stopped.

Exhaling slowly Evelyn leant back on the door, looking down to find her own fingers trembling. Forcing herself to straighten up she grabbed her coat before heading out again, to actually put the pouch of warmweed in its hiding place instead of discarded on the floor just out of the pony’s reach.

…..

Halt slinked around the corner of a house, keeping his breath steady and footfalls soft. Horace was waiting at a small camp in the forest, probably grumbling about the cold to the horses.

Freezing the Ranger watched as several teens, clearly friends, walked by shouting and laughing. Moving backwards the man quickly decided to stay near the little back-alley behind this row of houses, before melting back into the shadows there.

…..

It was nearly an hour later when he reached the docks or, rather, one small part of them. Muttering something intelligible about how seaside cities should actually _stay_ on the seaside the cowled figure settled himself into a decent vantage point and began to watch.

It rapidly became apparent that his first estimation was not as true as he had feared, much to the Ranger’s relief. There were a fair amount of foreigners present that were clearly not of Skandian decent, and though they were distinctly in the minority there were more than Halt had first supposed. Of course a young apprentice warrior and short exiled Ranger would still stick out. But with care it would be a manageable amount of sticking out, instead of being blindingly obvious.

The more urgent problem was that the wolfship Will had been taken on seemed to belong to a reasonably prominent skirl whose men often came by, doing a variety of tasks. It seemed that a small raid had just taken place, and the entire place was bustling with activity. There would certainly be no way he could pass undetected anywhere near the ship, hindering any plans of learning where Will might have been sold.

Bitterness and fury surged up at the thought but it was rapidly shoved away by cold practicality. Now that he was here Halt knew he had to focus, or else everything would be in vain.

After observing some more he crept away, reviewing the mental map he had created of Hallasholm in his head as he went, adding more details to the rough sketch he had had from past Rangers’ reports.

…..

“Any luck?” Horace asked, the second Halt walked back into camp, stepping underneath a tree branch.

“Am I allowed to even arrive before you begin?” the older man grumbled before gracing the teen with a legitimate response, “We might be able to appear once or twice. The main problem is that ship that took them seems to be owned by a very prominent man, called Erak I believe. Beyond that? The layout of Hallashom is reasonably simple. We seem to be near the more spread-out edge that leads into a fair amount of normal houses before finally reaching the wharf. Most slaves of prominent ships are sold up near the Oberjarl’s place if the skirl has no wish to deal with them individually and try to find a good price himself. Of course, we have no idea if this Erak fellow did that or not.”

Horace nodded, watching as Halt sat down onto a log after greeting Abelard before awkwardly clearing his throat.

The exiled Ranger raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes?”

“I made a discovery of my own today. We seem to be very close to a small path up into the highlands, probably used in summer. Do we want to move?”

“Any sign of recent use?”

The apprentice warrior hesitated. “I really can’t tell. Also with the recent snows I doubt there would be much to see. It doesn’t look like anybody has used it in the last couple days at least.”

Halt nodded, absently scratching at his beard. “We’ll go look early in the morning, when there’s enough light to see actual details by.”

….

Two figures trudged through the snow, one urgent and the other a slow shadow. The rapid one suddenly turned in frustration, tangled hair flying.

“Will, please _hurry.”_ She had no idea how much time they had but it certainly wasn’t enough even at a normal pace. As it was they had barely made any progress.

The sound of a horse had alerted her, with barely minutes to spare. Evelyn had thrown together a quick bag of rations, but the time she had needed to put Will on the horse had been taken up with trying to get him out of the hut. It seemed that the cold had become associated with the yard in his mind and he had near cried when it became clear that they were out outside for more than a couple minutes.

Urgency was probably all that had kept her own composure together at that point.

…

Halt turned to Horace in annoyance, though the warrior was already stuttering off an apology. Sighing the ranger waved it away.

“We’ll just have to assume that whoever’s up there heard it.”

“I thought that you said the trail hadn’t been used in weeks?”

“It hasn’t. But even Battleschool horses don’t call out for no reason.”

As if to confirm the statement a soft neigh could be heard from not far ahead. Urging Abelard forwards Halt grimly unslung his bow. Cursing himself Horace followed, shield now in hand.

…

Upon hearing the pony call back Evelyn swore, inaudibly spitting out a mix of Skandian and Araluen sayings, most of them blasphemous. “Come _on Will.”_

…

Upon investigation the hut was clearly rapidly abandoned, the small stock of food in disarray as if somebody had hastily packed. The small pony outside only confirmed the idea.

Glancing about the summer hunting hut Horace frowned in confusion. “Halt? Why would anybody be up here in this season? And why would they flee from us?”

Halt grimaced. “Any number of reasons – most of them because they’re wanted by the law.”

“How many do you think there are?”

The older man glanced at the hut, then towards the abandoned pony “Not more than five or six, from the size of the hut. Likely less than that if there’s only one horse, but it depends what they carried.” With a more considering note he added “In this country escaped slaves would also be possible, though they would have needed help to get this far. Or a great deal of luck, which is what most escape plans seem to run on anyway.”

“Do we follow them?”

…

Glancing back Evelyn hoped that their trail was concealed enough. The mounting snow made hiding it near impossible but she had tried. Squeezing Will’s hand she gritted her teeth and pushed onwards. 

…

Halt paused, then shook his head. “Not for now, at least. It’s getting dark already and I don’t want to run into desperate fugitives in the dark.”

Horace nodded in acceptance. During his training and travels it had become increasingly apparent that the phrase ‘a cornered rat will eventually show fight’ was only too true. And he had no real desire to face possibly lethal thieves while wading through accumulated snow.

Looking at the hut a spark of an idea formed and the apprentice warrior turned to his companion, grinning. “So do you think we can have warm food tonight?”

…

Crouched in their hollow Evelyn tried make the best of their situation, trying to ignore how Will simply sat there, shaking. Once again she was reminded of their time before, of when Will would have been the one leading this – when he was truly a _Ranger,_ apprentice or not, bow in hand and determination in his eyes.

Now the shuddering wreck of a figure simply stared at the ever-darkening sky, mind encased in addiction.

Looking away Evelyn began to take proper stock of what they had. The clothes would suffice, half buried as they were, with body heat enveloping them. There was enough food for the present – she could deal with that problem as it arose. Feeling exhaustion creeping in she let her eyes slowly close, forgetting the task at hand.

And then sat up rigid, shock and fear overcoming her, realization burning in her chest.

The pouch of warmweed was still with the pony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks, again, to When-There-is-a-Will for beta reading. I've edited it a bit more, but I was very sleepy when I did so, so any feedback is welcomed :)   
> Also I'm really busy so while this story IS in progress I give no guarantees of when the next part will be out. Hopefully soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> baby chapter   
> there's another one coming

Fuzzy shapes drifted though his unfocused eyesight, girl, yellow-brown {hair, that’s hair?}, green, white and –

 _Cold_.

_Cold._

_Too_

_Cold_

He shut his eyes, dreaming without sleeping, drifting through time, mouth-watering at the thought of leaves and the artificial warmth brought by them. There’s comfort there, warmth, reprise from the never-ending cold.

Some strange part of him feels like that is bad, that he should be strong. That only makes it worse, and he shies away from that, whimpering.

“Will? Will are you okay?” 

_No. Yes_

Cold?

Warmweed

Help me?

All he knew was that he needed warmth, that this needed to leave, and that the girl held the answer. He was tempted to reach out to her –

_She has it, she gave it before_

But when that happens pain follows his brain remind him. And he shuts his eyes tighter, trying to pretend that-

That nothing [Evelyn?]

_Warmweed?_

Reaching outwards towards the girl he holds her arm, whimpering. “Cold.” The phrase is thick and fumbling, and he doesn’t really still understand it anymore. But some aching part, the same part that makes everything _worse_ when it appears, because it wants to leave – it’s helping rifht now. And maybe it can get him what is needed.

Because this is cold.

Scary

_No stop_

Leave me a-

Warmweed?

_Go away go away go away leave me_

Holding her arm still he opens his eyes, the fuzz still there. And stares at her, pleading for some respite. For some answer to this cold and pain. She had it before, right?

He doesn’ like this, it should all be drifting colours and warmth. It keeps the pain away.

The pain isn’t going away.

The girl isn’t helping

_Why?_

He can’t get mad can he? That ends in beatings, he _knows_ that. But she’s different? She lived in the hut too.

But she provides food.

He begins to cry, staring at her.

_Cold_

_Bad_

_Stop_

_Fix it fix it fix-_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to have something after being gone so long, but this may be rough as my beta hasn't seen it.

…

Evelyn doesn’t know how to this. Will’s state has been getting worse over the last few hours, he’s still whimpering. She knows at this rate he’ll lose most energy, and they can’t afford that. At this rate she doesn’t trust him to last while she does to retch the parcel. Yet he clearly needs it, and her muscles bunch in fear of what might happen if she doesn’t get it soon.

They’ve lasted through most of the night, though outside the makeshift shelter they have it’s bitingly cold. If there had been time to take their cold gear – no. Blond locks shake as the once-princess refuses to acknowledge that. Contemplating what could have been will only make the current situation worse. Though there seemed to be a loss of much to do right now. Glancing over at Will again Evelyn pursed her lips, frowning in concern. He instantly shied away, shadows seeming to melt from the snow into his skin, the fear around him clinging like a solid presence.

Furious with herself the girl quickly rearranged her expression, though her eyes continued to scan her companion, trying to reach a conclusion as to what should be done.

Nothing was coming to mind, and the clock for Will’s sanity was ticking ever lower – that much was clear. He had never been this distraught.

Glancing out again Evelyn began to rapidly try to devise a plan to reach the pouch. _If I get caught-_ No. She couldn’t think of that.

Failure wasn’t an option – not with his life on the line. Not when she could still remember who he was supposed to be, when a bow was in his hand and confidence in his gaze.

Even if the terrified wraith here had no resemblance to him. She had to trust that he would, one day. And to do that the warmweed was needed.

...

Once the decision to stay at the cabin had been made preparations had begun for warm food. It had been decided that, so long as the fire was small, the amount of smoke was acceptable. “After all,” Halt said, “it seems our skittish friends have already been doing so. And they haven’t been noticed yet.”

Horace had eagerly helped the grizzled Ranger with the task of making food, the prospect of warm food seeming all the more attractive now that it was real. A store of grain had been found in the cabin, but they had only used a small amount of it in their dish, forming the rest from dried preserves and spices they had with them. As Halt had pointed out, there was no need to deplenish what was clearly a winter’s store of food. Who knew how long they would be there.

And so they had sat together, quiet in the growing dark, eating a warm meal for the first time in weeks.

Now, making another warm meal, Halt looked around the cabin again. It was a different style to what he and Will lived in at Redmont, but small cabins like this only had so many variations and it reminded him an unreasonable amount of home. _You’re just being sentimental_ he assured himself, turning back to the food. The tear down his cheek was pushed away, eyes firming up as the older man continued onwards.

_He’ out there. He has to be._

…

By the time Horace walked back into the cabin the food was nearly ready. The horses had been tended to, and were still safe.

They had taken watches throughout the night, but as of yet the previous occupants of the cabin had not shown themselves. The small pony seemed nice enough, through there were a variety of supplies in the bag that Horace wasn’t quite sure what to do about. He had resolved to let Halt know, and now the food was done it seemed like a good time to mention it.

“Halt, do you kno-”

And then a welcoming nicker came from one of the Ranger horses, while the otherwhickered an alarm.

Halt bolted, snatching weapons as he went. Horace was right on his heels, both cursing himself for being lax.

..

Grabbing his bow as he went Halt furrowed his brow in confusion. Why on earth would Tug have given a signal that was less than an alarm?

Unless… but he knew better than to hope for what would be a near impossible occurrence.

…

Evelyn stared and the small shaggy grey ponies. _Rangers._

And one was Tug.

She caught the edge of the wood next to here, trying to stop herself from collapsing.

“Who’s there?” That voice was one she had heard in meeting with her father, though never like this, ringing with authority and danger.

Hope and fear surging through her veins Evelyn turned, and took in a great gasp of air at the figures that greeted her. A Ranger and –

“Horace!”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, yes, I'm alive. I love this story, so I will come back to it, but I'm in the last year of high school with SO MANY EXAMS and so I shall try and update when I can. Promise!!! Remind me all you want, it helps (though sometimes saying more than 'update please' would be nice. I understand though, I am the same way with some of the fics I read).  
> I plan to go back and edit a lot of things too (not change the plot line, just fix language and make it better) on some of the other chapters, so that may happen too.   
> Thanks for all the comments, ily all <3

“He’s not okay Halt. He’s – he’s not Will” Evanlyn hated being the bearer of such bad news but it would be worse for the Ranger to see his apprentice with no warning. She had given the briefest explanation possible to Horace and the man – Ranger Halt – next to him. All pretenses of formality had been dropped, and while she knew Halt was probably well aware of her actual status everybody was ignoring it, at least in conversation. Time was of the essence. Some subconscious part of her mind was glad that Will had told her enough about Halt for her to feel comfortable dropping all titles – she wouldn’t have used them anyway, but feeling like she already knew the grizzled man in front of her sped everything up.

Halt eyed her warily, a small coil of dread knotting in his stomach – but there was no time for dalliance, he knew. No matter how much he feared for Will’s condition and the repercussions it could have, every second the boy was out in the weather made it worse. So, he quickly gestured forward, nodding sharply, “Be that as it may, we can’t afford to wait. Both you and he need to get inside, and you’ll have to lead me first. Let’s get going.”

Watching the girl, he knew she agreed with him, though her repeated warnings about Will were preying on his mind more than he wanted to admit. In this situation, Halt knew he had to take on the mantle of protector for all the teenagers, but he wasn’t yet sure if he himself was capable yet. Horace would never have faced something like a drug addiction, Evanlyn had already been managing on her own for long enough, and Will didn’t sound like he would be able to do anything.

Ideally, Halt thought, he would give himself some time to be able to properly help Will without possibly becoming overly emotional and upsetting the young apprentice. But there was no time. There never was.

Nodding to Horace, who was to keep watch and take care of the small cabin and horses in their possibly couple-hour absence, the Ranger and Princess hurried back though the snow, Evanlyn with a pack of warmweed in hand.

\---

Will was a wreck. Halt had been able to partially ignore it and work through it, his focus on only helping his charge reach safety. After all, given the conditions, it was not impossible that Will’s state was made worse by his poor health and overexposure to the elements – he hadn’t stayed inside the enclave very well after Evanlyn had left. But the way the boy’s trembling had mostly ceased with a dosage of warmweed left Halt cold, his heart aching, and he was dreading to see Will in full light.

While the group was arriving once more at the cabin, still stabling through the entrance, Horace hurried over, having prepared warm food in the meantime. However, all thoughts of food rushed out of his mind when his saw Will.

“Will!” His voice crackled, breaking repeatedly through the single syllable, but the apprentice warrior payed no mind. He was already bolting forwards when Halt raised his hand, moving in front of Will and shielding him from any oncoming hugs or shouts.

“You can’t do that right now Horace.” The older man’s voice was rough, but he continued to speak anyway “Will’s not well and if the side effects of warmweed are like those of similar drugs I have dealt with shouting will only upset him. Screaming his name and grabbing him will do more harm than good.”

Evanlyn nodded. “He’s not in the best state right now, and with the warmweed being taken away almost faster than he can safely handle he’s not emotionally stable. So, don’t shout, and don’t be too forceful or grabby. He’ll shy away and start weeping if you do, he won’t be able to calm down for hours, and what he needs right now is warmth and sleep.” Then she smiled wearily, fully taking in the sight of Horace for the first time – stress and fear and been leading her actions the entire way, and it was only now that she was starting to relax. “I know you want to help, Horace, but you can’t right now. At least not the way you want to. I’ll explain more later but right now making Will feel safe is the most important step.” These last couple additions were quiet, and said soothingly, as Evanlyn turned around and started carefully lead Will forwards to the small corner he seemed to have claimed as his own since their stay, Halt shutting the door behind them.

Horace nodded quietly, though pain and shock were still evident on his face. He kept staring at Will for some sign of his friend, but he could find nothing. Even Will’s small physique was atrophied – Evanlyn had clearly become numbed to it, but Will’s body was a disaster. His eyes were sunken, with dark circles under them, his cheeks slightly hallowed, and his body itself was a strange amalgamation of hard muscle and bone, which was only slowly showing signs of relaxing into a normal figure once more.

As he, as calmly as he could manage, moved over to the food to dish out portions, Horace noticed that Will had stopped moving. His friend was standing there, eyes still glazed, in front of Halt, refusing to move.

Halt stood, his breath caught in the back of his throat, before slowly reaching out a hand towards Will. The boy suddenly shied away, flinching from the contact, before raising glassy eyes up to the old Ranger in confusion, his body language a mix of leaning towards his mentor and doing his normal flinch away from contact – an action that had becoming more pronounced as he was being weaned of his drug addiction. Finally, after standing in that pose for what seemed like hours, Will reached forwards himself, though his eyes continued to stare at something else in the distance.

“Warm” was all he said, the word coming out thick and mostly incomprehensible, latching his hand onto Halt’s before seeming to suddenly lose all understanding of the situation and stagger to his corner.

…

_Halt?_

_No nononono not here not like this_

He’s too humiliating in this condition it can’t be Halt, when Halt’s here everything’s okay and

Nothing

Is

Okay

_Warm?_

The world snaps in and out of focus repeatedly and no no no no everything is bad

_Halt?_

_…_

_Safety?_

But the warmweed is safety, or at least that’s what his muddled mind says. And any imposing figure, especially male, means pain and

_cold and beatings and the yard no_

_Warm_

_Warm is safe_

_.._

_Warm?_

_.._

_Halt?_

_…_

But warmth is safety, and his body has already fully begun to feel the effect of the drug. Fuzz drifts by, and he staggers, but everything’s okay,

  _nothing is okay help me, leave me alone,_

and then he’s out to the world.

…

 

Nobody knew what to say, and Halt didn’t bother to hide his tears.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I exist!  
> This is very choppy I'm sorry, but the next chapter has more of Will-addict-mess which I can write more smoothly.  
> Thank you to all those still following and reading this

“How much food do you have?”

“Enough for a couple weeks, assuming we ration and there is still occasional fresh meat” Evanlyn said, forcing a smile, “Horace will have to bear it”

It was a small attempt at humour but Halt nodded anyway, acknowledging it as normal, if only for his companions’ sakes. The situation had deteriorated recently – after quickly settling in the small cabin and tending to Will as best as they could, Evanlyn, Halt, and Horace had been comparing what they had.

“So not enough to last the winter?” Horace asked. He was standing in the corner, eyes still often drifting to Will, though he was clearly making an effort not to stare. Halt grimaced slightly – there would be no avoiding Will’s condition, but Horace clearly didn’t know how to cope with his friend’s deterioration.

Not that I do either.

Jumping back into the conversation, Halt shrugged. “With supplies combined, and occasional hunting for anything we can find, and making use of the pines, it’s possible we could last. But it wouldn’t be a good idea. We need to be able to travel fast, and undernourished bodies would be counterproductive. So, when including the situation, no, not enough to last the winter. We’ll have to move on after a while, possibly into other rural areas, as the passes will be closed by now.”

The snow outside was cold and biting, thin and with a sinister touch, the wind howling around the cabin and small shelter for the horses. It was not a full blizzard, but neither was it particularly hospitable, and it had come in fast. Travel between such storms, even if they did not get worse, would be difficult.

Halt’s gaze drifted back to Will, unconsciously mimicking Horace, gut clenching at the sight of his apprentice. The boy was curled up, eyes fluttering under closed lids, hunching over into the wall like a sounded animal. His once-muscular frame was painfully thin, and even after an hour or so Halt still wasn’t used to it. Will had never been bulky, but now he was worryingly frail, with a terrible, strange juxtaposition of hard, cord-like muscles, lacing his arms, and echoing months of hard labour. His looked as though he had been attempting to self-destruct, and his mind was a in pieces.

Forcing himself to focus, the Ranger looked back at Princess Cassand–Evanlyn. She had spent the past while retelling, roughly, what had happened, or at the least how she and Will had come to be where they were. Halt had anticipated, if possible, facilitating the exchange of the Princess while taking Will back home as quickly as possible, but the Vallasvow complicated the situation.

And Will… “Are you sure this Erak does not know about your rank?” If he did, the situation could become precarious. Then again, Erak had freeded two slaves.

But freeing two slaves was very different to a loyal Jarl withholding information from the Oberjarl. And it was always better to be over-cautious than dead.

“I think it’s a fair assumption. He, or at the least his crew, would have announced my title to the Oberjarl upon arrival otherwise. And he hasn’t been given any new information since.” As safe as they could reasonably be then. “Alright. And, if you don’t mind Princess, I think we should continue to call you Evanlyn, so ensure there are no mishaps.”

The princess in question nodded, eyelids closing. Now the adrenaline and fear and worn off, and the relief had settled into her bones, she was tired. Others could now take care of the situation, and no matter how desolate the situation remained, the respite from being solely responsible made her feel more secure than she had in months.

…

The world was warm and fuzzy, like a blanket of heated cotton, magically enveloping him. But something about it was no longer comforting, Will’s mind feeling like a scrabbling mess. The cotton was too thin, the warmth was supposed to be _longer_ than this

_Why?_

_It’s fine it’s fine Handel will give more in a little it’s okay_

_It’s_

_Okay?_

Some dim depth of his mind said there had been fewer leaves but that thought drifted meaninglessly through, because now he relaxed and stopped focusing

_Warm is safe_

Things were okay and                                       _warm_ and nothing hurts and he’s at _peace_

..

.

…

Halt stood in front of Abelard, the early morning sun drifting through. They weren’t so far north that the light never seemed to truly fade, but the sun certainly came earlier than in Araluen. Evanlyn was tending to the pony and brushing out some of the snow that had blown in to the best of her ability. Horace and Will were both in the cabin.

Theoretically it was an ideal time to ask the Princes- Evanlyn – questions that Horace had not yet seemed to be comfortable with. It was surprising, what effected Rodney’s students the most – death was a fact, particularly after the contact with Morgarath and the Wargals, but addiction was not something Horace seemed to know how to face. Not that Halt blamed him for it. Evanlyn, however;

“You saw addiction in the palace didn’t you?”

Evanlyn stopped for a second, before continuing. “Yes. There were doctors there to treat it, and I can remember some of the instructions about weaning addicts off, but I haven’t known enough to tend to Will professionally.” She paused seeming to stutter, old traces of panic seeming to creep through, “I’m sorry.”

Halt shook his head decisively, raising a hand to forestall more apologies. “Don’t be, this is not your fault, or his. All I want to know, is, from your experience dealing with Will while he was more severely addicted” and how that looked Halt did not want to know, though his mind had been providing images incessantly “if warmweed is more potent per dose then what we get in Araluen.”

Evenlyn tilted her head thoughtfully, relaxing fractionally now her subconscious no longer thought she was being judged and coming up short, “More I suppose. I wasn’t well versed in what some of the people at court took, but Will was severly addicted rapidly, far faster than I think is normal.”

“Can he recover over the winter?” Sooner would be too much to hope for. Some of the mild addictions Halt had seen had been resolved in a season, but if warmweed was worse …

“I don’t know. All I can do is try.” Evanlyn paused then, thoughts racing. She didn’t want to tell him this, but Erak had warned her for a reason, and Ranger Halt of all people might be able to help, but he’s already turning away, looking grim, and hells she doesn’t want to be the one to say this;

“Warmweed withdrawal has been known to be fatal. If he doesn’t recover over the winter, and we have no more … it’s not just a risk to his temporary wellbeing, or his mental stability.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so it's short, and the internet was a pain, but it's here.

Halt stopped mid-step, staring down at the shaking figure clutching his arm as tightly as possible.

He and Horace had been with Evanlyn at the shack for a couple days now, and Will had shown now sign of improvement. Halt knew that his constant subconscious comparing of Will to his old state made it hard to notice improvement, but even Evanlyn seemed to be getting worried. Will had noticed when she tried to lighten up on the dosage again, first being distraught and crying, then desperate. Out of fear that he would get yet worse she had ended up giving the extra leaf, but the implication of a plateau in Will’s withdrawal worried everyone.

Yet Will, who still seemed to be deep in the depths of addiction, who had barley acknowledged his mentor’s presence was now staring at his, bloodshot eyes open wide.

Pausing for a second, Halt, forcing his expression to stay calm, crouched slightly, coming down lower Will’s kneeling height. “What is it, Will?”

His soft voice seemed to startle the boy, who suddenly inhaled before staggering back, hands raised in defence.

“Sorry … I thought you were someone, I thought …” the words are slurred and stumbling, but Halt’s heart leapt. Will had never spoken, beyond slurred murmurs of ‘warm’, but this was semi-coherent. And yet…. It seemed to be rehersel,  in part, as if Will had spoken them repeatedly. That coupled with Will’s blatant terror, led to a cold, sickening suspicion.

Carefully readjusting his body posture to be as nonthreatening as possible, forcing himself to slide out of his normal confident bearing, Halt reached out cautiously towards his apprentice.

“Will? I won’t hurt you” The grizzled ranger kept his tone as neutral as he could – he knew well that any overt show of emotion panicked Will, and the hunched figure before him was already trembling.

Those bloodshot eyes snapped up again, staring, staring, staring…

Halt looked down at where Will was staring, and, despite pretending to the world, and himself, that he had come to grips with the situation, that everything was fine, suddenly felt sick. Around his neck was a leather thong, worn where it rubbed his clothes. Without a silver oakleaf hanging from it.

Suddenly Will’s fixation made significantly more sense.

Will’s slurred words formed again, a strange mix of emotion that Halt wasn’t sure he would have known how to interpret even without the addition of warmweed.

“Sorry sir, I …. no .... disrespect” Will’s words were still garbled, and while he had calmed down slightly he still is crouched down, leaning away.

Halt forced his body not to go rigid. When he was sure he could keep up the pretence of calm, he nodded amiably, before assuring, “I know. It’s alright.”

Of course, he knew.

…

Something deep in Will’s mind suddenly fired, some instinct that suddenly screamed safety, and without even thinking he reached, hand fastening on the scarred arm near him. But then those eyes were turning, and this person was strong and male and

_The yard, the cold, no, no, no I didn’t mean it, leave me alone_

But that stubborn small part of his mind

  _that needs to shut up because he’s going to get killed for this confrontation means death_

won’t let him let go.

But then suddenly the murkey figure in front of him speaks, and the voice is undeniably male, and now preservation really does kick in, because _confidence_

_I used to be confident_

_That’s not safe, wait, please_

Confidence, and male, means punishment, and his hands are flying back and up in an attempt to save himself

_No not like that, down, no proper positions_

_They can tell,_

_and_

_aggression means no warmweed and no warmweed_

_…._

_.._

_Safety?_

_No, no, more than that_

_death_

_Orlog died_

_No aggression, no aggression_

_please_

His mouth is saying something but his mind won’t connect, and he’s glad, because he doesn’t want it to, he wants safe

_Safe and warm_

_But… could this be?_

_No, no, not here, Halt is home_

_Home is safe_

_Safe is warmth_

But then that voice drifts though his consciousness again, and –

_Halt?_

_It can’t be it can’t be_

_No oakleaf_

The drifting figure has no silver emblem, no oakleaf. And why should he? Oak is home, oak is

_Shade in the clearing, Tug dancing on a lead rope_

_Something irreplaceable hanging around his neck, shining bronze._

And he’s lost his oakleaf hasn’t he

_Rough hands snatching the cord, leaf and all, over his head, and ‘slaves don’t have jewellery’_

So why is he pretending it, and the person who always came with it,  would come back?

_Halt is home_

_This is_

_…_

_.._

_This is where?_

_Doesn’t matter,_

_Stop this confrontation,_

_Stop, please_

_I didn’t mean it I didn’t I didn’t_

_I …_

_Halt?_

_No oakleaf, no oakleaf, no oakleaf, no oakleaf_

_Not safe,_

_Please, leave me alone,_


End file.
